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Welcome back to my Disney revelations. The last time we were here, I told you the truth about what happened before Cinderella went off to the ball. Well, the story gets dishier and the gist gistier.

And so we begin.

Back up in the kingdom far, far away, tucked up high in the heavens, a furor was going on over the Fairy Godmother’s wanton audacity. The hosts of angels were vexed; Angel Gabriel could not what his subordinate had done.

Make merry with the Prince?! How dare she!

“Almighty God,” the captain of the heavenly hosts began, “Father of the Heavens and Keeper of the kingdoms below, Defender of the faint of heart, Source of all creation, and Conqueror of the Seven Earthly Realms, forgive my oversight in sending an angel to a human, one who had no purity of intent and goodness of knowledge for her charge.”

“The human has agreed to debauch herself at the ball,” another golden-haired angel interjected. “Let one of us go down to her right now and command her to ignore the Fairy Godmother’s bidding.”

“No,” God said. The word was softly spoken, but possessed an authority that stilled the stir among the angels. “The humans have their free will, to choose between good and evil, virtue and vice, decorum and depravity. The girl will be allowed to make her choice, between a lifetime of goodness and a moment promised out of gratitude.”

And that was that. So, without any interference, the entire Heaven looked on as the carriage bearing the last arrival to the ball pulled up before the sprawling stairs of the royal castle. A footman slid down and straightened before the two bulky guards whose job was to admit the guests.

“The royal household does not abide tardiness,” one of the guards snapped with a heavy frown. “Tell your coachman to turn his carriage around and take your lady back home.”

“Surely, you do not mean that, sir,” a voice said softly from the carriage.

The three men turned to the open doorway of the carriage through which Cinderella had begun to emerge. The guards were instantly awe-stricken by the immense beauty of the woman, from the cascade of golden hair that crowned the delicate features of her face, to the hem of her glorious gown which swirled over magnificent shoes that had the appearance of beaten diamond. This was clearly a woman of great pedigree, one they’d dare not turn away.

“My apologies, milady,” the guard who’d spoken before stuttered now. “I did not know one from such an obviously great household as yours sat yonder in the carriage.”

A tinge of colour stained Cinderella’s cheeks. She had the grace to look guilty at the lie she was projecting.

“Well, now you know,” she continued softly, her manner lacking in arrogance, “may I be granted admittance into the ball?”

“But of course, milady,” the other guard said, before stepping aside and gesturing to the stairs.

Cinderella looked up at the stairwell which swept grandly upward to the entrance of the ballroom. She swallowed hard and stretched out her right hand. The footman by her side took it, holding the tip of her gloved fingers delicately in the air, before the two proceeded up the stairs.

They soon got to the top and walked down the mosaic-tiled hallway for the entrance, beyond which Cinderella could see the kingdom’s brightest already reveling. With a deep breath, she mustered her wilting courage as her footman guided her past the heavy cedar doors.

“Who comes yonder?” a very important-looking man queried in a plum voice as they drew forward.

“An honourable guest of the Prince,” the footman answered, giving the man a withering look that could not believe his effrontery.

The man opened his mouth to speak further, perhaps to ask her name and which district or estate this noblewoman had come from, but then he glanced at her and shut his mouth. His eyes filmed over with awe as he admitted to himself that no interloper could ever boast of such beauty and magnificence.

Distractedly, he waved them through.

When they got to the cusp of the festivity, Cinderella let go of the footman’s hand and advanced on her own. She cut a striking figure, one that demanded attention and got it as the women who stood in her way parted and those who didn’t craned their necks to get a good look at her.

As Cinderella moved forward, she could feel her transformation finally reach completion. Outward and within, she was no longer the bedraggled girl forced into servanthood. She was now a lady of immense nobility, who had more of a claim to the Prince’s heart than half the women in this room. Her confidence must have telegraphed itself to the revelers, because murmurs of jealous dissent trailed her progress through the room. Who is that noblewoman and how dare she strut herself in this manner… Surely no one in any district in the kingdom can have a dress that richer than the queen’s, she must have stolen it… The nerve on her, to parade herself like she’s already the Prince’s bride…

And then, a man stepped in front of Cinderella, eliciting a collective gasp of shock from all the woman of the kingdom, for the man, whose smile dazzled and whose hand was held out, was the Prince himself.

Cinderella stood there for a moment, breathless and instantly smitten by this man who represented the future of the kingdom. He was handsome, exceptionally tall, and younger than she had imagined. Even so, he projected the sophistication and polish of an older and wiser man. He was impeccably dressed and his thick, sable hair was immaculately coiffed.

“May I have this dance with you?” he said, his voice a breathy whisper of wonder.

Cinderella realized then that she was having the same effect on him that he’d had on her. She took his hand, and his skin felt smooth and well tended. “Why sure, Your Highness,” she said, trying not to stare at his skin, which was smooth and bronzed.

And right before the astonished glares of the other women, the Prince whisked the noblewoman into the centre of the ball, in a dance he hadn’t had with any lady before the noblewoman’s arrival. They twirled and glided and spun with such undeniable grace, parting and then coming together in a move that was a testament of their fountaining chemistry. The women in the ballroom who were wise recognized that they no longer stood a chance, and the foolish ones clung fiercely to hope.

“Who are you?” the Prince finally asked after several moments of quietly enjoying the nearness of the woman he was dancing with.

“The one you never saw coming,” Cinderella replied coyly.

“Does she have a name, this one?”

“Yes, she does.”

“Will she tell me?”

“Yes, when you have proven yourself to her.”

The Prince’s lips twitched with the beginnings of a laugh. “Is my status as your future king not proof enough?”

“Privilege is something a man is born into, but the heart of a woman is what he must work for,” Cinderella quipped.

The Prince threw his head back in rich laughter.

And all the ladies sighed with envy. He was clearly enjoying himself with the bitch.

“I love a good mystery in a woman,” the Prince said, his gaze enraptured by the woman in his arms.

“And I love a man emboldened by a woman’s mystery,” Cinderella replied as he spun her to the music.

“Oh, I’m not just emboldened, milady.” He pulled her back in and his dark head hovered over her golden one. “I intend to get to the bottom of it. Of you.”

A faint blush coloured Cinderella’s cheeks. Make merry with your Prince, the Fairy Godmother’s words echoed within her. A smile lifted her rouged lips as she said, “If it’s meant to be, Your Highness, it will be.”

And so it was. The Prince and the noblewoman danced to that number, and another one. The Prince would not leave Cinderella’s side, not even when a sentry from the King came to whisper a message into his ear: His Majesty would like to see him to know what he knows about this noblewoman, because no one else knows anything. The Prince had laughed and dismissed the sentry – and message – without taking his eyes off Cinderella. He was smitten, and it was clear to the entire room that he had made his choice.

“Would it be found improper of me to ask that I take you away to someplace private, milady?” the Prince said as the couple waltzed to their third number.

Cinderella flashed him a smile. “I should hope not. The room does grow overbearing with the heat of everyone’s attention.”

And then, the Prince did the second most startling thing of the evening. He stopped dancing, took the noblewoman’s hand and began to lead her away from the ballroom. Everyone gaped and speculated: Where were they going… Was he going to propose… Was he to wed her at once… And by the gods, who was this woman?

The Prince took Cinderella upstairs to his private living room, one which had been constructed to resemble the royal barque. The ceiling reached as high as the ship’s expansive sail, white linen fluttering down from papyrus ropes draped pillar to pillar. They walked across the blue faience-tiled floor as Cinderella stared with wonder at her surroundings, awed by its serenity.

“We shall not be disturbed here,” the Prince said.

“I have no doubt,” Cinderella responded. “It is a beautiful room.”

“One which I escape to whenever I want to reconcile my individuality with my responsibility as the people’s future leader.”

“It seems designed to merge the two.”

The Prince nodded. “And until now, I have not pictured myself sharing it with any woman, none, not until I met you.” He stopped walking and turned an impassioned look to her.

He stared, taking in her glistening lips and inhaling her innocent fragrance, want throbbing in every fibre of his being. Cinderella stood a mere breath away from him, staring right into him as if she knew every thought that was passing through his head, and yet didn’t hold it against him.

For one brief moment, they dangled in suspended animation. Their gazes meshed, their futures strangely entwined.

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About shakespeareanwalter

Walt Shakes(@Walt_Shakes) is an award-winning Nigerian writer, poet and veteran blogger. He is a lover of the written word. the faint whiff of nature, the flashing vista of movies, the warmth of companionship and the happy sound of laughter.

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15 comments

Why so short now…. Did they make merry or not? See how you are doing me ehn.. I have exams this morning and I’ve been checking my phone, patiently waiting for this. It arrives and is short and not satisfactory at all…. *cries*

Walter! Walter!! Walter!!! How many times did I call you? Shebi this one is for yesterday… because this your TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW is not keeping to its promise. You will just be stretching sombori’s longathroat!

Chai! Na Echi agwu agwu you dey do us? Please next time you write ‘to be continued tomorrow’, kindly put a date beside even though the article has a date already. That way, it will be easier to sue for breech of contract.

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The images of one's mind are like snapshots of a camera. As such, this blog is like my album, a place where I store and show the pictures worth keeping. This is my take on the word through my lens and into the aperture of my mind, imprinted on the film of my mind. I wash the negatives and put out my mind snaps. :-)